Raúl Sanz García, autor en Raúl Sanz García

The Flight of Words

27/04/202627/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

One summer night, while everyone slept, the words began to escape through the window. They were tired of being used vulgarly, offensively, or wrongly — of being used to deceive, to lie, to insult. And so a few of them, the worst-treated, broke the chains that bind them to our tongue and set out on an adventure. The first to … Read more →

Traditional Cultures Are Not Traditionalist

27/04/202623/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

Traditionalism is an ideology that regards certain past institutions as the most perfect and effective and links them with truth. It is a modern ideology, first explicitly formulated in the political circles that, in nineteenth-century France, reacted against the ravages of the Revolution. The concrete forms to which they appealed were those of the Ancien Régime: throne and altar. Since … Read more →

Where is your saviour

28/04/202618/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

Where is your saviour?
Where is the one who will destroy all books,
who will hoist you back upon the horse
and send you galloping?
Where is he?

Spiders weave their webs

28/04/202618/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

Spiders weave their webs
among the dead beams
of old houses.
They do not weave them to hunt
but to keep those houses
from collapsing,
to hold upright
what abandonment would have
fall to the ground.

Hypotheses, p. 45

There are so many who would wish to keep silent

28/04/202618/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

There are so many who would wish to keep silent,
but they live always being asked
about everything, by a voice
that is neither in them nor outside,
and they cannot help answering
in a tongue they do not understand
with words they do not understand.

Everything is in perpetual movement

28/04/202616/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

Everything is in perpetual movement.
Nothing repeats itself.
Identity is a piece of sophistry
fit for stubborn spirits.
But listen to the footsteps of all
that moves. Be still — do you not hear
the ceaseless murmur of the void?

We have walked on tiptoe

28/04/202615/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

We have tiptoed
over the piled-up bodies.
None of them raised a hand
to grasp us by the ankle
and remind us of the mists
of their native shores.

The world goes on beyond words

28/04/202611/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

The world goes on beyond words,
but words too go on beyond the world,
toward the clashing abyss of meaninglessness.
Can we tear through their spider’s web
and fly like the bird of prey whose gaze
pierces the distance?

The Great Public

28/04/202611/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

To write for plain men,
for tacky women,
for people who are mad for the crockery
of the great department stores,
for scholars who flatter and buy
the philosopher Wojtyła
or any other humanist on the back cover.

Sometimes enthusiasm comes to our door

28/04/202611/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

Sometimes enthusiasm comes to our door
and sees the sombre ash of our breathing.
Then it does not know whether to enter or to let
us wither away into sleep.
There will be a tomorrow, it seems to think,
a tomorrow of hesitant footsteps

Ode to the Idiots

28/04/202610/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

The idiots know many things.
Let us beg of them the nectar
that God, in his image and likeness,
presses for us.
Let us hear from them the law
that gathers all in sentences
perfect and complete.

I hold in the dawn of my half-light

28/04/202610/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

I hold in the dawn of my half-light
your swollen light;
your mute eyes spill over
and tumble down the slope
of the void.

All that the body can love

28/04/202610/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

All that the body can love
is made of touches and vibrations.
All that can be the object of our desire
is a breaking murmur against the walls.
Light pierces them, and nothing in life
knows emptiness or stillness. Nothing denies us;

Treatise on Absolute Poetry

29/04/202606/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

The mass is made of glyphs.The glyphs bore through air or earth,never through fire or water.The glyphs conceal fire or water,never air or earth.The poet, with the hammer of his hands,upon the forge of his chest,will beat the mass until the laymen say:That is a form that admits nourishment,a bowl, a jar, a chalice… We Are Wellspring, p. 47

Redeemer

29/04/202606/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

Condemned to repeat the same psalms

obscure

deliriums of distant men.
Their hunger, not ours.
Their tongue, grotto of ours.
Their dead…

Fear

29/04/202605/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

Nothing is left that deserves our dread,
all that was untamed lies beneath the rugs,
the steppes hold no blizzard now,
and ash has overtaken the roads.

Drought

29/04/202605/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

The merchant came and saw
that nothing was left in the marketplace —
that the stalls were empty, that there were no
vases, flutes, carpets, or jewels;
that there were not even stalls, only desert.
They were all saying: it does not matter to us, we know no thirst.
But the merchant still knew it, so he took a shortcut
and brought the inner rain to a halt,

The Secret of the Tartar

29/04/202604/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

Look:
these peoples are used to being laid waste —
they pitch their tents across the plain, out to the horizon,
and they lie down under the sun to wait for the Tartar.
What are they doing in their prostration?

When I had a job

29/04/202602/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

When I had a job I went to by bus
every morning,
one of my fantasies was to get off
at any of the intermediate stops
and never arrive —

How can we fail to feel the press of so many people

29/04/202601/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

How can we fail to feel the press of so many people
each morning. We feel them
in the belly
and at the crown
of the head

Between everything being free

29/04/202601/12/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

Between everything being free
and nothing being so
lies the whole of the ocean.
And if the extremes touch,
perhaps it is the same thing to spend
one’s existence peeling banknotes
off the body with every act
as to walk across the asphalt

Seventh Deed (fragment)

29/04/202628/11/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

How small is all the vastness of childhood
when its scent on the chest is of first fields,
of wet grass,
salted flowers,
plaits of mud,
bread of hands…

Physics of the Road

29/04/202628/11/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

I always walk barefoot
and the world is an eternal beach of damp sands
where there is no sea and no land,
only the part in which both lap at each other
like newly-wedded dogs.
It is their tongues that erase my footsteps
just after they have been uttered.

Second Deed (fragment)

29/04/202627/11/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

I see you!
Rosy gates,
rotund blazons waving like cyclones,
mundane vapours pouring en masse into the earth.
I arrive upon the infinite donkey that descends the cliffs.

Guardian

29/04/202625/11/2023 by Raúl Sanz García

If you ask me what my trade is, I will tell you:
I wander.
My care lies out there among the things felt —
I circle them in silence so as not to startle them,
I perfume myself absent as the lynx
in order to admire the caresses,